Cahill Chronicles: The Forgotten Souls
by Seabound
Summary: They were on two different sides of the planet - neither knew of the other's existence. But when serpents and boxes lead way to a collision of paths and a world far from their own, the Cahills and Kabras are put to a test like no other. The hunt for the Kings and Queens of the Old hasn't been dubbed one of lies and deception without reason...
1. Prologue: My Place is Here

**Author's Note: **Well, I have two fics sitting to be updated and I really,really shouldn't be writing this, but gosh, I couldn't pass the chance to write the first fic of this crossover, now could I? ;) Please review; I really appreciate any feedback, comments, and concerns (Constructive Criticism is always welcome!).

Random questions:

_1- What's your favorite ice cream? (I like them all...)_

_2- Favorite music artist/band? What song by them was your favorite?_

A great thanks goes out to A Pencil in her hand for help on the title and name of the mysterious land ;) A great big hug goes out to my fellow supportive Essencers as well!

Also, random song of the chapter:

_"Feeling Good" by Nina Simone_

**Disclaimer:** The various characters and places of _Narnia_ and _The 39 Clues_ are owned by C.S Lewis and the appointed authors. All story plots, original ideas, and words belong to me, Amber Cahill. This disclaimer applies to the entire story. If the need to contact me ever arises, then leave your question/concern/other in the reviews - I do not PM (private message).

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**_Prologue: My Place is Here_**

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**New York, New York USA**

**Cahill Residence**

**May, 1995**

Red hair flew through the wind as the anxious teenage girl sprinted away from the supermarket and towards her home. Her brother lugged after her, clenching grocery bags in one hand and messing his already unruly blond hair with the other. She urged him on, peeking over the paper grocery bags, her pale face draining of its color when she glanced at her watch. Breathing heavily, the turned on a side-street and twisted through dozens of roads, their aching legs struggling with each step. The came to a stop in front of a quaint, white house with rusting navy shutters and slipped through the front door, hopefully unnoticed.

Their attempt at the espionage was highly unsuccessful.

"Young lady," a high-pitched voice shrieked, causing sudden chaos in what looked to be a quiet little home. "You kept me waiting twelve minutes, _twelve minutes,_ and I still have no lunch at all! When are you going to get the chance to make it?"

The boy winced, grabbing the food from his sibling and (uncharacteristically) sorting them into cabinets and the fridge. Balling up the bags and throwing them in the garbage, he gave his sister a boyish grin. He hopped on the table and purposely swung his legs, just the way his great-aunt hated.

"_Daniel Arthur Cahill!_" Aunt Beatrice snapped, glaring daggers at him. He smiled sweetly and continued his childish antics.

Amy reached out and yanked her brother off, ignoring his indignant protests. "I'm sorry. We were just giving the soldiers some boxes of wheat and grains."

The elder woman's face drained of all its color (the rogue looked like smudges of fresh tomato sauce on her cheeks, now). "Soldiers? They're back already?"

"No. They came from to pick up some supplies," Amy replied, knowing she had snapped a cord by mentioning the war that had taken her grandmother (Beatrice's sister) and her parent's lives. They weren't always in New York; their home had been in Attleboro, but after a surprised attack, they were prompted to move out of the area and to their only closest living relative. The war currently raged on in Kent, England, in addition to the country that had been similarly attacked by America. There was always a chance, though, that they would need to move again from their new home (even though they didn't like to call it that).

"Well, no matter, finish cleaning the house!" Beatrice commanded. "I'm going out to meet some of my friends visiting from Kansas." It was then Amy noticed the formal blues dress her aunt was wearing with beaded white pearls. Her orangey dyed hair was twisted into a tight bun, and dark purple lipstick was spread across her lips. The woman drew a cloak around herself and swept out the door, leaving a trace of strong perfume behind.

Amy smoothed the plaid, folded pleats of her own frock. She shot her brother a frown when he reached towards the croissants she brought to eat with tea. "You heard her Dan. Get to work._ Now_."

He rolled his jade eyes and jumped off of his throne. "We should run away. I don't think I can put up with her anymore."

At sixteen and thirteen years, the siblings had much to put up to. Their aunt was practically forced to take them under her wing, and she did her best to make their lives as miserable as possible. It was a game of repayment; they did the work, Beatrice supplied the home, and a bit of money. Her eyes were set on the fortune left by Grace, her sister and the children's grandmother. It was quite a bit, and her goal was to gain access to it when Amy became legal age to use the money.

(God knows what would happen when the time comes for Amy's wedding. Beatrice was already searching for the wealthiest man alive.)

"I don't think we have a choice, Dan," Amy sighed, glancing at the stack of books on the floor.

Dan quickly caught onto his sisters silent longing and thrust a bowl and a wooden spoon towards her. "Don't you go off reading! Like you said, Dweeb, we have work to do."

She stuck her tongue out at him and snatched the dishes away from him. Two hours later, a delicious platter of mashed potatoes, steaming gravy, and well-cooked spaghetti were resting on the table, their smell taunting Dan and Amy, who were always punished when eating before Beatrice returned home. Dan's mouth watered, "How about a small taste, _please_?"

"No, Dan," Amy said absently, divulging in the world of Mark Twain, Huck Finn, and Tom Sawyer (and irritating great-aunts).

The boy bit his lip and searched the sweets cupboard for his favorite sugary gummy worms. Glancing at his sister, he quickly shoved a dozen into his mouth.

"_I'm home_!" came a call. "Is that gravy I see?"

Amy, who had at this point dozed off, blearily stumbled towards the front door to collect Aunt Beatrice's fur coat and shoes. Dan furiously chewed his snack, but Beatrice managed to catch every error with her sharp eyes. She inspected Amy's dress and clucked her tongue, a malicious grin spreading across her face.

"Look at this! Both of you in one day!" she exclaimed. "A wrinkle on this dress; do I spend my money on your clothes to have them pathetically ruined?"

The redhead nodded quickly, her jade green eyes darting back and forth between her dress and her brother.

"And eating dessert before lunch. No dinner for you two! Off to the storage room; both of you!"

o.o.O.o.o

**Northern London, England**

**Visiting the Morgan Residence **

**May, 1995**

The tall, intimidating boy held out his glass, and a butler filled it to the brim with orange flavored sparkling water. He curtly nodded, lifting the cool liquid to his lips, and his shrewd amber gaze swept the room. He was only sixteen, but his demeanor was the same as his parents, and he was a demanding man already. His coffee skin, broad, muscular build, and silky black hair had the _girls_ asking for previous betrothals. But his parents were of high honor and the Kabras didn't just pick anyone for their children. Their bloodline was one of wealth, power, and great fame; they were indeed, the richest of the rich in England.

Ian watched his sister curtsy in front of friends of their parent's before sweeping up her skirts and gliding towards her brother. She plucked some punch of a waiter's tray and stood beside him, examining the action from the sideline, despite the fact that all eyes were on them. She sniffed when the handsome boy she had her eyes on stumbled on a maiden's dress. Natalie turned away and acknowledged her brother.

"See anything you like?"

He chuckled dryly, his voice void of any humor. "Mother looks absolutely stunning."

Natalie scoffed and looked at her parents. Isabel Kabra's face was already flawless, but it was still adorned with light brushes of makeup. She was dressed in shining jewels and a flowing scarlet gown of rich, velvety cloth, and her feet were fitted into tall heels. Their mother was beautiful; absolutely gorgeous, and she stood proud and tall near their handsome father. Her hair fanned out behind her in a glossy sheen of perfect curls. His cinnamon skin, amber eyes, and silky black hair was similar to the ones of his children. Dressed in an expensive, custom-made Italian suit, his aura was of a very important and _very_ powerful person.

They were dangerous.

They were filthy rich.

They had unlimited power.

No one messed with the Kabras, and no one dared try. It was rumored that their home was filled with passages, rooms full of poisons, and weaponry rooms with training quarters. Those rumors were true, but that was only a minuscule amount of secrets that the family actually held.

Ian nodded his head towards the door. "Suppose we take a break from the party?"

"Mother and Father will kill us," Natalie said, but her tone told that she wanted to escape as well. "How do you presume we find some place in this home?"

He heaved a great sigh, as if he couldn't dare comprehend his sister was underestimating him. "Do you honestly thing I'm that dim?"

"Yes." A smile lifted the corner of her lips.

"These peasants," he gestured across the room, ignoring her remark. "Are no match for us. I did my homework, and I know every nook and dark secret of this home."

"Where did you find out about the Morgans? I didn't know we had a file."

"I'd tell you, dear sister," Ian smirked, "But then I'd have to kill you."

Natalie rolled her eyes and caught her mother watching them carefully. Out of the corner of her mouth, she hisses to Ian, "Mum has a hawk's eye on us."

"Don't worry," Ian consoled. "I have a plan."

"A stupid one, I presume?" she asked innocently, widening her kohl lined eyes.

"You're lucky I can't take my dart gun out," Ian gritted, lifting his arm.

Natalie wrapped her gloved hand around it and lifted her glittering pink skirts. The rubies lining her shoes were exposed, and she smiled at the money hungry eyes of the men and the sour ones of women. Her heels clicked across marble tiles and she let her brother lead her across the room. Drapery was placed on banisters and curtain rods. The chandeliers and decorations were obviously fake gold, and she couldn't help but think that her home was better by a tenfold. She knew how to host parties. The Morgans, as old of a family they were, didn't.

Frankly, they didn't know a lot of things.

Ian weaved through the crowd and Natalie knew that he was trying to throw off their parents' attention that was half-glued on them. After about half an hour of pointless wandering, Ian slipped behind draperies and Natalie followed behind. She saw that they were now in a narrow hallway with doors on each side. She looked around and waited for someone to pass, but no one did, so Ian brushed her hand off and briskly walked to a wall with a painting of a serene meadow. He promptly lifted it off and set it on the floor so it was leaning against a tall oak door. Natalie studied the faint brushstrokes.

How she wished life was as peaceful as the picture. But then again, there was never that thrill of espionage.

Curiously, she watched Ian push in certain bricks, muttering numbers and coordinates under his breath. When he felt he was satisfied, he stepped away. To her surprise, the bricks slid into the wall and made way into a much smaller, narrower hallway, and then a large, circular room. The roof was very high, a cool breeze emitting from a small opening at the peak.

"Brilliant," she muttered.

Ian smirked smugly. "I know I am."


	2. Curious Urges

**Author's Note:** Thanks for favoriting and following, but please drop a tiny review? A few chapters from now, I won't need to do this location thing (meaning, the whole chapter will be based off of place, instead of two).

Random Questions:

_1. Do you have a Tumblr? Are you addicted like I am?_

_2. Favorite Disney prince and princess?_

Song of the Chapter:

_Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People_

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**_Chapter One: Curious Urges_**

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**New York, New York, USA**

**Cahill Residence**

**May, 1995**

"How long do you think before she figures out we're not in the storage?" Dan asked, retrieving his stash of chips and cheese dip from a large chest.

Amy's shoulders rolled in a casual shrug. "I don't know. As long as we're out of her way for at least an hour, I think we're safe." She leaned over and snatched the snack halfway to her brother's mouth and happily devoured it. He glared and reached for another, keeping it far away from Amy.

The two siblings had locked themselves away in their room, which was actually a musty attic. It would have been large, but only a small part was used for their belongings while the other half served as a storage room. If Beatrice couldn't find room to put something, it would go straight into the dusty pile Amy and Ian were forced to clean every week.

A single opening covered with glass high above provided the light, but when it was dark they flickered on the odd lamps obtained from the storage. Their beds were on opposite walls with two trunks and two tiny wardrobes in between. At the foot of her bed, Amy had a little bookshelf with old, recycled books from the library. Dan, however, used his shelves for odd knick-knacks and his many collections.

It was a restricted area, but they had made it their own.

Amy threw open the doors to her wardrobe, grabbing one of her nicer outfits to change into. Her work skirts was a mess or wrinkles and a stain of gravy from cooking. She took a long sleeved cotton dress; a spring green that contrasted her hair, but accented her eyes nicely. It was quite plain, but the area around her waist was tied back with a white piece of ribbon. She grabbed a pair of worn, brown leather sandals that once belonged to her mother. They were mended to fit, and she had threaded different shades of green colored beads. Amy ducked out of the attic and into the small bathroom, the only one other than Beatrice's and the one meant for guests.

Throwing her older clothes into the laundry bin, Amy glanced at herself into the mirror. Her wavy red hair was long, up to her lower back, so she braided it the way the woman's daughter at the thrift shop had shown her, using five strands instead of three. Satisfied, she went back into her room (careful not to step on the creaking floorboards), pulling out _Pride and Prejudice_ and flopping onto her bed.

She was gladly reading and Dan was happily playing on his Game Boy (the Xbox - a gift from Grace - was downstairs with the television), when a loud thump echoed from below. They could hear the screech of hinges as a door opened, then the sound of chatter from familiar voices. They stared at each other with wide eyes.

"Beatrice," Dan hissed. "You don't suppose she invited the Rosenblooms, do you?"

Amy furiously shook her head at the mention of the family. They were made up of Astrid, Mark, and their two sons; Jake and Atticus. Their parents were nice enough, as was Atticus (a close friend of Dan), but they weren't daft to not realize that the only reason Aunt Beatrice was acquainted to them was to get Amy married off to Jake. The Rosenblooms were a wealthy family, and it seemed that the only thing Beatrice was ever after was money. Jake himself was arrogant, ignorant, and annoying despite his good looks and infinite knowledge in history, science and whatnot.

Safe to say, seventeen years was not the age of marriage Amy was looking forward to, especially to Jake Rosenbloom. She had plans for herself; she wanted to become either an archaeologist or a history professor and pursue her degrees from Harvard. She wanted to make her parents proud. Dan, like their father, aimed to be a mathematician (which wouldn't be hard considering his excellent memory, skills, and talent in solving puzzles).

Steady footsteps came from downstairs, and Amy knew that someone was climbing the stairs to the attic.

"Hide?" Dan meekly suggested, tilting his head towards the various boxes on the other side of their room. Amy didn't respond; she grabbed his arms and towed him towards the largest one near the neglected back of the room. She threw off the top ones to make it look as if they were casually placed, not thrown in an act of desperation.

Dan hopped in first, and Amy stood her ground, rearranging boxes. Her forehead creased when she didn't hear the thump of him fall, and she peered in the box.

There was no cardboard at the bottom. Only pinkish sand, and she swore she saw waves lapping at the edges. Dan was sprawled on the ground, turning in circles and calling her name.

"Amy!" he called, obviously not able to see her. "If you can hear me, come on down. This is..." She saw him gaze into the distance and widen his eyes and exclaim a loud, "Wow!"

"Amy, dear, I've made a betrothal for you!" She could hear Beatrice gleefully call, and the creaking of wooden floorboards became clearer.

Betrothal.

She wouldn't give Beatrice the satisfaction of marrying her off, gaining money, and stealing away her inheritance. And she absolutely would never agree to spend the rest of her life with _Jake Rosenbloom_. Quickly, in an act of curiosity she turned over the box to glance at the bottom, and discovered it did have a bottom to it. Sand spilled onto the floor, and Amy quickly turned it upright. The thumping footsteps grew louder.

Now or never. Dan was in there alone, and something clearly impossible was happening inside a _cardboard box_. If she fell, she would surely wake up from this bizarre dream, wouldn't she? The brass doorknob turned, and Amy knew they had been discovered long ago as to not being in the cupboard. Despite the fear in her chest and the urge to pinch herself, thinking it was a dream, she closed her eyes, grasped the edges of the box.

And then she tumbled in.

o.o.O.o.o

**Northern London, England**

**Visiting the Morgan Residence - Private Room**

**May, 1995**

Natalie Kabra completely disregarded the notion of _privacy,_ and curiously peered into file cabinets. Anything interesting would go into her purse, and then she would transfer them to her parents so that they'd compliment her and tell her they were proud. After all, it was a Kabra's job to stay at the top and be the best of the best; no one would get into their way and everyone's secrets would need to be theirs. Despite that it took much to please her parents, Natalie always tried her best to do so. Her mother was her role-model, and her father was the best. They were the ones who taught her how to kill. They taught her the art of poisoning, lying, and deception. They had made her who she was, even if most of it was shrouded in front of others. She may have looked like a little angel, but Natalie Kabra was a _Kabra. _No one ever ought to be duped simply by looks (even if in Natalie's case, they were stunningly gorgeous).

Unlike his sister, Ian lay sprawled out on the velvety and marshmallow soft couch. He was away from the élite and his parents, therefore he thought it'd be a great chance to take a rest from maintaining stiff postures and keeping his head held high. His legs were crossed at the ankle and his hands were folded behind his head, and his gaze was fixed upon the swirling design carved into the plaster leading up to the high ceiling. His sharp, amber orbs following swirling lines around what seemed to be a simple stick. He squinted, and moved to stand up to get a better view of the pattern.

And then he gasped.

What he had thought to be a worthless pattern was really two entwined snakes around a caduceus, like the one Hermes would have in his hand. The longer he stared, the more it seemed that the snakes' tongues were flicking outwards between their fangs. Ian blinked, and looked again. This time they were still. He shook his head and walked towards Natalie, thinking that he was starting to go insane.

"What are you doing?" he asked blearily, glancing uneasily back up at the ceiling. This time, he thought that the serpents actually _blinked_. He looked back at Natalie who was studying him curiously.

"Are you alright?"

Ian scoffed, trying to hide how troubled he really was. "Of course I am. Now, what have you found?"

Natalie saw through his lie right away, but shrugged it off. "Betsy Morgan is spying on the Kabra estate. And they're part of some group to bring us down," Natalie said, bored.

Her brother rolled his eyes. "And surely they'll fail." His voice lacked worry; after all, there had been thousands of plots to bring down their family - all of them had failed. His amber eyes drifted back towards the ceiling, snapping back to his sister's attention when he saw the snakes coil further around the staff.

"It wouldn't hurt to ruin the Morgans of their wealth," Natalie mused. "We could turn this into a spring home, don't you think?"

He absent-mindedly nodded, and he scanned the files that Natalie had placed in her purse.

"Brother?" she said, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Ian didn't answer and pressed his lips tightly together. Curious, Natalie strolled towards to the center of the room and looked directly up at the patterns in plaster that Ian had examined before. She scrunched her nose, not noticing anything. Her eyes drifted a bit further up, and she gasped, stumbling backwards. The snake was twirling around the caduceus faster, and it seemed to be slithering down the walls, growing in size.

"Ian!" she shrieked. "The snake... It's absolutely filthy!"

Ian turned around, and when he saw the serpent, he visibly paled. "Natalie..." he said, taking her arm. "Get back."

She obliged, but the snakes grew larger until they were a couple feet wide and twenty yards long. They seemed to be transparent as they did not knock over any furniture, but went through it. It's dark, green scales shone as it's glittering black eyes opened further. It was as if it had no intention of hurting the siblings; it's eyes were soft and it's expression was neutral. Then again, the science of reading a snake's expression was not something the Kabras had covered.

"Ian, _do something_!" Natalie demanded, her eyes open in fright as it approached.

"Just..." Ian helplessly trailed off when the large head came face to face with him, and he faltered in his bravery and charm that he was well known for.

It circled around the siblings, once, twice, until all they could see were scales around them. They were encased within the area the serpent was traveling around. It grew longer, taller, until all they could see was a speck of light at the top. Ian kicked out towards it, but his foot came in contact with scales harder than armor. He winced, and realized that there was no use trying to get out. They were trapped. Natalie trembled, clinging to her brother and not remembering that her purse full of valuable papers was lying somewhere, forgotten. The yelled out for help, but no on heard.

The roar of wind grew louder and louder, causing them to stagger backwards. A wall of scales trapped them within the area the snake was circling, growing larger and larger until they couldn't see where it's head was, or see the ceiling. It was a cave or darkness. A loud hiss echoed in the room and they covered their ears, wincing at the volume of the sound. It grew louder and louder, until it started to quiet as if the source was leaving, when it was still encasing them.

And then it simply faded away into silence, and a salty breeze tousled their raven black hair.


End file.
